Driving the dictator

Another classic trip from 20 years of TG mag: delivering Admiral General Aladeen to a big telly interview.

At Hyde Park Corner, a cop strides out in front of us,
halting traffic. The Queen’s cavalry regiment trots across the road, inches in
front of us, hundreds of horses and soldiers in military finery. Old-school
royal transport meets modern dictator transport.

The Prombron isn’t a bad place to be trapped. Its
cabin is upholstered in thick tan leather (ostrich, not whale-schlong,
thankfully), its rear seat a giant, cushioned Davenport. Admiral General
Aladeen’s official crest adorns the headrests. OK, its dials and satnav come straight from a GMC pickup, but Leo only had a couple of months to make this car. He promises customer versions –
Dartz will build seven official Aladeen Prombrons, each costing £750,000 – will
be yet more luxurious.

Some hours, much deflecting of Derren’s career-related
questions and several width-restrictor-related detours later, we reach Sacha’s hotel. As we draw to a halt by the lobby, a bodyguard ushers
us away. “What are you doing here? You will draw attention. Get out! Stay
anonymous!” Anonymous? In a gold-plated armoured truck? Tricky. We squeeze into
a bunker beneath Hyde Park, and wait. And wait.